


Up on the Fridge

by violetvaria



Series: Jack and Mac Dialogues [2]
Category: MacGyver (TV 2016)
Genre: Dialogue-Only, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Jack is Team Dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-28
Updated: 2019-04-28
Packaged: 2020-02-08 16:24:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18626875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetvaria/pseuds/violetvaria
Summary: “Mypointis that your refrigerator is covered with—with napkins and—and torn scraps of paper, and—”“Not my fault you don’t know how to use regular paper.”~~~Mac visits Jack's apartment and notices something odd about the refrigerator door.





	Up on the Fridge

**Author's Note:**

> With thanks to the lovely and brilliant impossiblepluto, who sparked this idea, which was in response to a comment from Nevcolleil, which was responding to the must-read story [**Recrudescence**](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18439946). (The fandom creativity circle of life.)
> 
> The title is technically the title of a [song](https://youtu.be/QCRFEFSyT4w) from the children's musical _Dear Edwina_ , which I believe I saw a long time ago with some of the pseudo-nieces.

“You okay, hoss? Watch your step.”

“Jack, I can walk inside a door.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen you trip over nothin’ on your best days. When you’ve got a concussion, we don’t need to take any chances.”

“It’s just a mild concussion. I don’t need—”

“Man, how many times we gotta have this same argument? You already promised Bozer you wouldn’t stay by yourself tonight.”

“Bozer worries too much.”

“Whatever. You’re here; make the best of it. It’s been a while, brother. You remember where everything is?”

“Yeah, Jack, I’ll try not to get lost in your apartment.”

“See, I know you’re not feelin’ too smart if you think it’s a good idea to roll your eyes at the guy about to order dinner.”

“Not hungry anyway.”

“Yeah, just wait ‘til it gets here.”

“Hm.”

“Hey. That wasn’t a suggestion. Grab yourself a drink and go sit down on the couch or somethin’ before you fall down.”

“I’m not going to fall down. You got any—”

“No beer for you, my friend. I’ll take that.”

“I wasn’t going to drink it. I got it out for you.”

“Sure you did. You just gonna stand there with the fridge hanging open?”

“Just wondering what that used to be.”

“Uh, chicken lo mein, I think. Guess it’s been a while since I cleaned out the fridge, huh?”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“Okay, you’re startin’ to freak me out, partner. You got your water. Now you’re just gonna stand there some more?”

“Jack…what is that?”

“That? Man, how hard you get hit on the head? You don’t remember?”

“No, I know it’s sodium hypochlorite.”

“Really? Damn, I thought it was the formula for bleach.”

“Yeah, that’s the active ingredient in bleach, Jack.”

“Oh.”

“But why do you have it on your refrigerator?”

“Ah, well, ya know.”

“No, I don’t know. And why do you have this sketch of the floor plans of that safe house we stayed in a few months ago?”

“That house got burned anyway. Not like we’re gonna use it again.”

“That’s not the point, Jack.”

“Yeah? You got a point?”

“My _point_ is that your refrigerator is covered with—with napkins and—and torn scraps of paper, and—”

“Not my fault you don’t know how to use regular paper.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Mac, maybe you got knocked on the noggin a little harder ‘n you thought. Wanna sit down?”

“No, I want to know _why_ you have all that—all that there.”

“Don’t know what to tell ya, hoss. You’re acting like it isn’t normal. _Most_ people put stuff on the fridge door when they wanna remember. You know, like the grocery list.”

“You mean this index card that says ‘usual stuff’ and ‘paper towels’”?

“Damn, I forgot the paper towels.”

“So you’re saying that you want to remember…the quadratic formula?”

“Oh, is that what that is?”

“You didn’t even know?”

“Well, I knew it was somethin’ geeky you were ramblin’ about, but sometimes it blurs together, y’know?”

“Something geeky? I’m pretty sure I was showing how you could predict the position—never mind. _Why_ is it on your refrigerator?”

“Dude, I just explained that! You really need to go sit down.”

“Jack. I’m not moving until I get an answer. This is practically a stalker wall.”

“Dramatic much? Not like I have pictures of you up there with your eyes scratched out or somethin’.”

“No, but you have a napkin with what I hope are pizza-sauce stains—”

“Yeah, half a beer and you turn into Cookie Monster, dribblin’ food all over the place. Practically ruined your little drawing of your fairy cage.”

“ _Faraday_ cage. And why did you keep it?”

“Well, you were pretty excited about it. Talkin’ about how you could build one with just some chicken wire and somethin’ else, probably duct tape—”

“ _Jack_.”

“Mac.”

“Why are you being so creepy and weird?”

“Kid. Your brain is definitely weird, but there’s nothin’ creepy here, all right?”

“You don’t consider this—”

“Hey, I remember the fridge when I was a kid bein’ plastered with stuff. My mama put up every picture I ever colored for her, those photos they took at school that made everybody look like a wax dummy…Whatsa matter? This ain’t ringin’ any bells?”

“Um…”

“I bet all your straight-A report cards were tacked up there for weeks. Heck, I think my kindergarten one that said little Jack didn’t pick his nose so much anymore lasted for a month.”

“Gross, Jack.”

“Wait a sec. Hold up there. Are you telling me…Mac, did you _never_ have anything put up on the fridge?”

“Well…it’s…”

“Oh, kid. Man, I had no idea…okay, let me explain in easy terms.”

“Jack, quit patronizing. I’m not an imbecile.”

“You see, Mac, when someone is proud of something their kids did, they want to remember it. You with me so far?”

“Stop talking so slow!”

“Hey, you need to sit down? You’re not lookin’ so great.”

“Hold on. Did you say _kids_?”

“So?”

“But everything on here is…Ha! I know!”

“Hey! Where you goin’? You’re gonna fall down!”

“I’m not if you stop pushing me!”

“I’m not pushing! I’m helping!”

“That isn’t helping! Let go of my arm!”

“See? You just ran into the wall!”

“Yeah, because—arrgh! Just get off!”

“Uh, kid, you really are confused, aren’t ya? This ain’t the guest room.”

“Jack, you’re a creature of habit. You’re going to be hiding stuff _right_ …”

“Dude, I’m a grown-ass man and my mama ain’t here. If I wanna have dirty magazines, I don’t need to hide ‘em under the mattress.”

“Yuck. I did not need that mental image. Ah ha!”

“A box? That’s what’s got you all excited? At least you’re sittin’ on the floor.”

“I’m going to open this.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not trying to stop me?”

“Why would I?”

“You’re not embarrassed?”

“Man, are you okay? Why would I be embarrassed? You’re the one who practically cartwheeled over there.”

“But I thought…I mean, in here, aren’t there…”

“Well, look for yourself if it’s important to ya. Gotta have somewhere when the fridge runs outta space.”

“Jack…”

“Ehhh. I’m gettin’ too old to sit on the floor like this, bud. Okay, whatcha got?”

“Are these…paperclips?”

“Well, they used to be, ‘fore you got your hands on ‘em.”

“And what’s this? Is this the microtransmitter Riley made after she fell in the water and lost her comm?”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that. Man, you remember how nervous she was, thinkin’ it wouldn’t work?”

“Oh. Yeah. Guess I’d kind of forgotten that.”

“You startin’ to see why I keep stuff around, kid?”

“I don’t know that there’s any excuse for having one of Bozer’s old scripts in here.”

“Well, he was pretty proud of that one. Kept sayin’ stuff about Bruce Lee.”

“I think he was talking about Spike Lee. The director.”

“Whoever. The point is, I remember him bein’ happy, and relaxed, and…y’know, lookin’ forward to stuff.”

“Is that…?”

“Is that what?”

“Is that why you didn’t throw any of this away?”

“Throw away? Are you kiddin’? You think what you do is trash?”

“Well, it is all covered with grease and food stains and—”

“Mac. Look at me. Do you think what you do is worthless?”

“Jack, that’s not what I meant.”

“’Cause I’m tellin’ you that you are—what’s the opposite of _worthless_? _Worthful_?”

“Not even close.”

“Whatever the word is, you get what I’m sayin’. Right, kid?”

“I guess…?”

“What you do is…important. Valuable. Appreciated.”

“Jack, stop.”

“Aww, I gotta get a picture of you blushing.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah, you are. Lookin’ cute enough that maybe I need to put this picture up on the fridge.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jaaack…what do you want to make that picture disappear?”

“Hmmm.”

“Stop humming. I could just take your phone when you’re sleeping.”

“Oh, you wanna play, little boy? ‘Cause you are _not_ at your best right now. You know Ri already set it up so everything gets magically backed up somewhere.”

“Clouds aren’t magic, Jack. They’re—”

“Yeah, yeah, I got that diagram you made in here somewhere.”

“That’s…still kind of weird, Jack.”

“Nah. That’s the concussion talkin’. How about we get off the floor? Food’s probably almost here anyway.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You good? Not dizzy?”

“I’m fine.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll make you a deal. You go sit down until dinner gets here, and I maybe won’t send this photo to the whole team.”

“What?”

“Three seconds, dude. Three, two—”

“Fine! I was planning to sit down anyway.”

“Sure you were.”

“Okay, I’m sitting! You can stop hovering.”

“I thought you’d sit on the couch or somethin’. Kitchen chair ain’t the most comfortable.”

“It’s fine, Jack.”

“Mm-hm. You just wanna admire your artwork on the fridge?”

“Shut up.”

“I’m not sayin’ a word. You look all you want. I like to look at it too.”

“Jack?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks.”


End file.
